


Lest He Die In Battle

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9150889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: On the front line of the Krayt war, they fight hard — and find time for pleasure when they can.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liadt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/gifts).



"Hey, what's an erk doing in here?" 

Steven had been sitting quietly in the corner of the _Sontaran's Head_ , but looked up sharply at the sound of Gunner Hawkins' voice. He knew that tone; it was one that was usually heard shortly before some sort of trouble kicked off. 

And, sure enough, trouble looked as if it was on its way. A young woman, perhaps twenty years old, dressed in the grey tunic of a technician, was glaring defiantly at Hawkins and a couple of his fellow troublemakers. 

"Bar's free to all, isn't it?" she said. 

"Can't teach 'em, can you?" Navigator N'Ko said, shaking her head. She leaned forward, speaking loudly and clearly. "This bar for pilots, you savvy? Erks go to Harpy's Paps. Two stops on core shuttle." 

"Oh yeah," the technician said. "And what if I don't?" 

Hawkins leered. "Then we'll spank some sense into you. Even an erk won't forget a lesson like that. Get her over the table, N'Ko." 

Steven rose to his feet, and headed toward the party. 

"Stand down, you three," he said. "She's with me." 

For a moment, he felt that he might be too late to break up the situation, but a mocking laugh from Sergeant Maleenon, who was sitting nearby, defused the tension. 

"Anything with a pulse, Taylor, just like everyone says," he said. "Just make sure you scrub the grease off before parade tomorrow." 

To a chorus of jeers, Steven guided the girl to a table near the door. 

"Are you new?" he asked. Pilots didn't tend to pay close attention to techs, but he was pretty sure he didn't recognise her face. And her uniform looked new, too. 

"Suppose so," the girl said sulkily. "No-one said anything about special bars for pilots and so on." 

"It's more of a station tradition. Your shift leader should have told you. Who was it?" 

The girl looked down at the table and bit her lip. 

"Are you actually..." Steven decided not to finish that sentence. "Look, what's your name?" 

"Ace." 

"That's all?" 

"Just Ace." 

"Then I think we'd better find somewhere more private to talk." 

He downed his drink and got to his feet. As Ace followed suit, he saw her grin for the first time. 

"Don't hang about, do you?" she said. 

"We don't have time for relationship contracts and background checks in this job." They left the bar, pursued by laughter and coarse witticisms. "Don't you know there's a war on?" 

"'Course," Ace muttered, though Steven retained his doubts. 

⁂

"OK," Ace said, once they were safely inside Steven's quarters. "Now what?" 

"Now suppose you tell me what you're actually doing here." Steven's sidearm was in his hand, aimed at Ace. "How do I know you're not a Krayt agent?" 

"You don't. Except if I was a spy, I wouldn't be going into bars and getting hassled by bilgebrains, would I? I'd do what I came to do and get out fast." Ace reached for her pocket, but hastily stopped moving at a gesture from Steven's gun. "There's a spy somewhere here all right, but it isn't me." 

"How do you know that?" 

"Someone's been mucking about with the fuel manifolds on your fighters." 

"You've got evidence for that?" 

"In my pocket. I can get them out if you want." 

Steven shook his head. The girl could have anything in her pocket — gas, grenades, a knife — there was no way he could trust her to reach in there. And he wasn't going to get close enough to search her either; that would risk her making a grab for his gun. 

"I'll take the tunic off if you like," Ace said. 

This time, Steven nodded. Ace grinned, and unzipped the tunic. Underneath she was wearing a T-shirt and striped leggings, both looking like something archaic from a costume drama. Stepping out of the tunic, she let it fall to the floor and kicked it across to Steven. He crouched down, still keeping his gun on Ace, and felt in the pocket. There was something there, something cylindrical... 

He risked a quick glance down, and took possession of a fuel filter with a neat, wedge-shaped cut in it. 

"Where was this?" he asked. 

"In one of the fighters. Theta Squadron, number six." 

_That was my ship_ , Steven thought. He gave Ace another searching look. "I'm taking this to the Commissar. I'll say I found it — you don't want to attract his attention — but you'll have to stay here till I get back. I'll lock you in." 

Ace shrugged. "Suit yourself." 

⁂

It was perhaps an hour and a half later that Steven returned to his quarters. Ace was still there — he'd half expected her to have left, lock or no lock — perched on the bed. 

"Looks like you saved us from a clever saboteur," he said. "Just a handful of manifolds sabotaged each time. Enough to give us higher-than-usual losses, not enough to attract suspicion. They're going through the records now, but I expect the saboteur's already pulled out." 

"So you think I'm one of the good guys now?" Ace asked. 

"Pretty much, yes. You're free to go." 

Ace didn't move. "Don't have anywhere to go." 

"What d'you mean?" 

"My pickup's not till tomorrow. I told him I'd got something else to do tonight." 

Steven shook his head, puzzled. "I don't get you." 

"Men!" Ace pulled off her T-shirt. "Now d'you get me? You said that's how things go round here. Take every chance, 'cos maybe it's the last chance you'll get." 

Steven set his pistol down and crossed to Ace, who was now divesting herself of her leggings. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to." 

"If I didn't want to I wouldn't be here." She gave him one of her reluctant smiles. "They said in the bar you'd fu— shag anyone, didn't they? I'm feeling left out here." 

"Don't you ever swear?" Steven asked, answering her smile with one of his own. 

"Maybe." Now down to her underwear, she took his hand and pulled him down onto the bed beside her. "Depends how good a time you give me, doesn't it?" 

⁂

"I shouldn't have done that," Ace murmured, as they lay together in the darkness. 

"Bit late to think of that now," Steven replied, equally quietly. Ace might not have been who she claimed to, but she'd certainly shown the passion of someone who knew any day might be their last. 

"That's not what I mean. You're not a toerag." She shifted her position a little. "Been with enough of them to know. And now I've jinxed you." 

"Don't talk nonsense." 

"I'm bad luck," Ace said gloomily. "Always have been. Bet you the next time you go out you get shot down or something." 

"That's what happens in war." Steven ran a hand over her body. "You reckon you've cursed me by sleeping with me, do you?" 

"That's how it goes. Sorry." 

Steven moved his hand carefully, and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. "So... do I end up with any more curses if we do it again?"


End file.
